


happy endings

by Pixxit



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-11
Updated: 2007-11-11
Packaged: 2019-09-15 02:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16925109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixxit/pseuds/Pixxit
Summary: Yuuta finally makes his move.





	happy endings

 

 

Yuuta's lips were chapped.

It wasn't quite winter, though the wind that seemed determined to find its way beneath his windbreaker certainly _felt_ like winter, and it occurred to Yuuta that this year was moving even quicker than the last one had. Yet another season was upon him with nothing significant in his life to mark the passing of the previous one and Yuuta wondered why it didn't upset him the way it used to. When he used to want for so many things – recognition, success, the attention of a few pretty girls – and would never have settled for the quiet sort of contentment he seemed to enjoy now. Truthfully, it was too difficult to recollect how long it had been since Yuuta had thought about something so simple as kissing a girl. Since he'd thought about kissing anyone _other_ than Mizuki.

Post-Mizuki Stress Disorder – that's what Yumiko had whispered to Shuusuke once when Yuuta had tripped over the threshold to sprawl ungainly on their modest front-steps that day that Mizuki had shown up unannounced. They'd snickered and murmured to one another but had pretended never to have noticed a thing when Yuuta – blushing and mumbling and hoping his ears didn't look as hot as they felt – led Mizuki into their kitchen. He'd been respectful, cordial and Shuusuke had taken the small bag of sweets Mizuki offered with a welcoming smile that hadn't quite reached his eyes. Yumiko had stared unabashedly, her low-cut blouse and candy-red lips seeming to garner much more of Mizuki's attention than Yuuta felt _he_ ever did. The only time Mizuki had ever looked at him that way was when they were on the court and Mizuki had a lesson to impart – a point to make.

That had been nearly three years ago, though, and things were different now. Now Yuuta lived just down the hall from Mizuki and the time they spent together was reminiscent of the time he used to spend with Shuusuke when they were small. A familiar, important sort of time; the sort of time that Yuuta felt certain would be much more relaxed if Mizuki weren't so beautiful and mysterious and didn't smell like the delicate purple flowers that bloomed along the winding, dirt road that led to Mizuki's family's home.

As soon as he realized what an embarrassing, mushy path his thoughts had taken, Yuuta tugged the neckline of his turtleneck sweater up to touch his ears and hunched his shoulders a bit. It wouldn't hurt – he had several inches on Mizuki and reasoned that most passersby had likely mistaken his companion for a female, anyway. With his pretty face, glossy curls and shiny lips – not to mention the outfit he wore – Mizuki was more beautiful than any girl Yuuta had ever desired before.

"Yuuta," Mizuki said, swinging the tiny shopping bag he held in a slow, pendulous motion. "You haven't said much since we left the store. You aren't bored, are you?"

"What? No, of course I'm not bored, Mizuki-san. Are you?"

Mizuki merely laughed, tugged the waist length, wisteria-colored parka down a bit. He glanced over, then, taking in the sight of Yuuta – uptight and licking his lips again. "Your lips are all red. Do you need to borrow my chapstick?"

Making a show of searching through his own pockets as though he certainly didn't want to inconvenience Mizuki by borrowing so personal an item, Yuuta eventually nodded. Mizuki carried anti-bacterial hand gel and fitted, black gloves in his bag for the express purpose of avoiding other people's germs. That he would offer to share his chapstick with anyone was a surprise to Yuuta. He blinked, shoved his hands deeper into pockets and gazed down at Mizuki in the moonlight. They should have taken the bus – they'd both be warmer if they had. Yuuta felt guilty for having exposed Mizuki to the night air; he'd often complained about the state of his skin after prolonged exposure to wind.

Mizuki stopped, then, still beneath a streetlight as he rummaged through his messenger bag. "I know it's in here, somewhere," he murmured to himself. "I know it's not the plain kind, though."

Standing before him, waiting and taking the opportunity to study Mizuki in the bright light, Yuuta's thoughts began to drift. Mizuki's pants were snug and the same shade as the fake, cream-colored fur that lined his parka's hood. The dark, knee-high boots he wore were more suitable for a weekend at the ski lodge than for a stroll along a shopping strip on a Friday night, but Yuuta could only assume that he knew nothing about fashion and so it would do him no good to waste time thinking about it.

Quite unexpectedly, Yuuta found himself thinking back a few months to the night he'd visited Mizuki in his room to ask after some study sheets. He remembered the fitted, white pajamas Mizuki had been wearing and how they'd pulled tight across his backside when he'd knelt to search through a bottom drawer.

Despite the chill - the way his chest was so tight that he felt as though he couldn't have sucked air through a straw – Yuuta began to sweat. One curl had tangled with Mizuki's eyelashes and Yuuta swallowed hard.

Mizuki glanced up, then, smiling when he held out a tube of sparkly, peach-tinted lipgloss. "This will do the trick," he told Yuuta, already unscrewing the cap for him. "And it tastes yummy, too."

Unable to move – unable to act normal and take the lipgloss and ignore the way Mizuki's sweet scent had completely pervaded his senses in the short time they'd been standing there – Yuuta asked the question he'd been wanting to ask since Shishido Ryo had refused to shower in Mizuki's immediate vicinity.

"Mizuki-san," he said, voice barely audible. "Do you…do you _like guys_?"

Faltering for a moment, smile fading when his expression shifted, Mizuki swallowed hard and blinked quickly. It was too late, though. Yuuta had seen the hurt there. He parted his lips, as though to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. Turning on one heel, Mizuki hurried away from Yuuta. With his back so stiff and straight and his every step so perfectly placed, Mizuki looked just as good going as he did coming.

It didn't seem to matter, though. Mizuki was gone and Yuuta had hurt his feelings when he hadn't meant to. As accusatory as his statement had probably sounded to Mizuki, Yuuta had been too distracted and too apprehensive to allow for the sort of the delivery he'd intended.

Where there'd truly been only a hopefulness, a need for common ground, Mizuki had heard disgust or _worse_.

Sighing, Yuuta knelt to retrieve the tube of lipgloss Mizuki had dropped and even as he tucked it into his pocket with every intention of chasing Mizuki down to give it back, he knew he couldn't follow in his footsteps just yet. This time, he'd know beforehand exactly what he wanted to say. And despite Mizuki's anger, Yuuta would not allow Mizuki to turn him away.

They'd avoided this particular issue long enough. Or – at least – _Yuuta_ had.

\+ + +

It wasn't quite late enough to worry about disturbing his neighbors with the music he enjoyed listening to before bed, but – perched before his vanity and contemplating his reflection – Mizuki knew that music would not lift his spirits tonight.

Having towel-dried his hair, he finger combed his damp curls absently while he replayed the events of the afternoon over in his mind. Yuuta had seemed to be having a perfectly good time – it wasn't as though they'd done anything out of the ordinary – and had been the one to suggest they go shopping together. He hadn't purchased anything, himself, but he'd seemed content to walk alongside Mizuki while he picked up those few items necessary to a beneficial skin care regiment.

But then something had happened. In so ordinary a moment, Yuuta had stared too long and too hard and he'd finally asked the question that Mizuki had been half-dreading and half-anticipating since he'd realized it wasn't Yuuta's _tennis_ that he was interested in.

Bowing his head, Mizuki pressed the damp towel to his face and wished he hadn't run away the way he had. While he was almost certain that it had been contempt he'd heard lurking just behind Yuuta's words, Mizuki couldn't help thinking that he should know Yuuta better than that. Hadn't they been friends long enough to allow for some measure of trust?

Laying the towel aside, he uncapped his favorite lotion, squeezing a tiny amount into his palm and rubbing it along his forearms and over his elbows while trying not to think about how hurt and guilty he felt. He wondered if Yuuta had returned to his rooms already – eager to put some distance between himself and Mizuki now that the truth was no longer unspoken. Mizuki knew that sleep wouldn't be so easily obtained tonight.

Standing slowly, draping his towel over the back of his chair, Mizuki startled at the first, tentative knock at his door. Unable to move right away, he simply stared at the door, heart hammering in his chest as there was only one person who would be paying him a visit this late in the evening.

"Mizuki-san," came Yuuta's low, hushed voice. "Are you still awake?"

Mizuki touched his hair self-consciously, smoothed down the front of his pajama shirt and parted his lips to speak. His own heartbeat was unnaturally loud in his ears and he wiped his palms against his hips.

"Mizuki. Please. Let me in."

Something in the tone of Yuuta's voice spurred Mizuki into motion where words alone might not have, though he was no closer to finding his own voice when he opened the door than he had been when he'd realized that Yuuta had come to him, at last.

Still clad in his orange windbreaker and heavy, baggy jeans, Yuuta looked as if he'd just come in out of a windstorm. His ears and cheeks were flushed red, but his lips were shiny and sparkly with peach lipgloss.

"I, uh…I went for a walk. Sorry I didn't come after you."

Mizuki shrugged, wrapping both arms around himself and stepping back a little in lieu of a welcome.

'It's fine,' he wanted to say. Wanted to make light of the situation and pretend that he was self-assured enough that Yuuta's perceptions would have no effect on him whatsoever. His throat was too tight to offer pretty lies, however, and so he maintained his silence and simply turned his eyes away.

Reaching for him, letting the tips of his fingers graze Mizuki's elbow, Yuuta stepped inside and nudged the door closed behind him.

"Mizuki-san. Forgive me."

Glancing up, Mizuki couldn't conceal his surprise. He hadn't anticipated an _apology_.

"For what?" he finally asked, looking up at Yuuta and wishing he weren't standing so closely.

"I didn't mean for it…" he hesitated, running a hand over the top of his hair and sighing heavily. "I didn't mean for it to sound the way it did. Y'know, back there."

"It's all right, Yuuta. To be honest, I'd expected that you would ask me long before now."

"Why?" he asked, confusion marring his brow.

Mizuki laughed, turned away. "Why? Because I'm not into girls like the others, that's why. I've never had a girlfriend and I don't want one."

"But I've never had a girlfriend either, Mizuki-san," Yuuta said, stepping up close behind him.

"No, but you could," was all that Mizuki could say, already wishing that he hadn't opened the door. Yuuta was going to make him say it, was going to force a confession out of him. A confession he wasn't ready to give – wasn't sure he'd ever be ready to give. It was so much easier to be true to oneself from a safe, protective distance.

Resting both hands on Mizuki's upper arms, Yuuta moved closer still, fingers curling against Mizuki's soft skin. "I don't think I want one, either."

When Mizuki didn't respond, Yuuta went on. "It just doesn't seem to matter. Not when I'm with you so much of the time."

The tone of his voice hinted clearly at his apprehension, his bashfulness and reticence. But those were the things that Mizuki loved about him, when all was said and done. Yuuta was reaching, wanting to extend himself without giving himself away and who could better understand that than Mizuki? Self-preservation above all – that was the key to a happy life.

But that didn't seem to matter, either. Not when Mizuki could feel Yuuta's breath on the back of his neck and smell traces of the fruity lipgloss that he wore.

"That's not real life, Yuuta," Mizuki said. He'd give him this out – this last ditch at normalcy – it was the least he could do for this kouhai he'd held in the highest regard. "I'm here and I’m convenient. I won't always be enough for you."

He turned in Yuuta's grasp then, upsetting his hold. "Is this why you asked whether or not I was interested in boys? So you could satisfy some curiosity of yours?"

Sweeping Mizuki with a slow, careful perusal – the blatant sort of look that he'd never had the courage to reveal before now – Yuuta touched his shoulder, stroking the soft fabric of his shirt. "I asked because I wanted to hear you say 'yes'."

"Okay, fine, _yes_ ," Mizuki said without hesitation. "Yes, I like guys, Yuuta. There – no more secrets."

Before he could work up an anger righteous enough to protect himself, Yuuta wrapped both arms around him to haul him close and when he looked up to meet Yuuta's gaze, he knew his resolve would only stretch so far.

He wanted this – had wanted it for too long to pretend otherwise – and it seemed as if Yuuta was offering it to him.

"I like you, Mizuki-san," he said, breath warm against Mizuki's lips. "If you like me, too, then there's nothing to fight about."

He was barely cognizant of his own actions when he wrapped his arms around Yuuta's neck, when he stood on tiptoes to press their mouths together, when he moaned against Yuuta's soft, sweet lips as Yuuta's arms tightened about him. He would remember it all later and it would be beautiful, Mizuki knew, but now…he just couldn't think.

"What if you change your mind?" he asked, turning his head to gasp for breath when Yuuta lay a path of kisses along his jaw and neck. Bunching the fabric of Yuuta's windbreaker in his fingers, Mizuki closed his eyes and tilted his head.

"What if I don't?" Yuuta returned, pressing the palms of his hands to Mizuki's lower back. "You smell so good, Mizuki-san."

Mizuki bit his lip, shivering when Yuuta began to pluck at the buttons of his shirt – praying that he wouldn't lose his nerve, praying that he wouldn’t stop. "I showered when I got back."

Nuzzling the hollow of his throat, Yuuta unfastened one button after another until Mizuki's shirt gapped open and he could slide it easily over his shoulders. "I want to kiss you everywhere."

Eyes wide, Mizuki tensed, hands fisted at Yuuta's back. "You…?"

"Can I?" he asked, pulling back to stare worshipfully at Mizuki. His pupils were dilated already and his hands shook when he slid Mizuki's shirt away. "You like me too, don't you?"

Nodding once, though he really wasn't certain of precisely what it was he was consenting to, Mizuki lifted Yuuta's jacket over his head, delighting in Yuuta's acquiescence when he lifted both arms to assist. Yuuta stepped back then, tugging the cream-colored turtleneck over his head and tossing it aside. Around his neck was a thin, gold chain and a tiny pendant in the shape of a coiled dragon. It lay just in the hollow of his throat and Mizuki touched it tentatively, having never seen it before.

"What's this?"

Kneeling to remove his shoes, Yuuta glanced up at Mizuki, smiling to have caught the bashful expression on his face. He set his shoes aside and stood to face Mizuki again.

"One of my mother's aunts gave this to her when I was born. She said I would grow into it one day and that she knew I would do great things."

He shook his head ruefully, touching the pendant absently. "She was an odd one."

Mizuki didn't agree. He felt certain that Yuuta's great-aunt – whoever she'd been – had been absolutely right. Reaching out, he touched Yuuta's shoulder, let his fingertips trail over his bicep and down his arm until Yuuta caught his wrist easily and tugged him close.

"Stop trying to distract me, Mizuki-san," he said. "I'm not going to change my mind."

Tearing his gaze away from the dragon that glinted beneath the soft lighting, Mizuki went to Yuuta without hesitation. "Good," was all that said before Yuuta's arms were around him again and, this time, his urgency was a little more obvious.

"Mizuki," he murmured, edging Mizuki back toward the bed, touching his hips, his back, his shoulders.

Before he could offer his lips for more of Yuuta's shy, untried kisses, Mizuki was flat on his back in the center of his mattress and Yuuta was over him. He was heavier than Mizuki had ever imagined he'd be and it was difficult for him to catch his breath when Yuuta slid one leg between both of Mizuki's and pressed their mouths together again.

Eyes closed, Mizuki tilted his head when Yuuta pushed his tongue past his lips and it was every fantasy that he'd ever indulged in when he lifted both legs to wrap around Yuuta's thighs, eliciting Yuuta's sharp intake of breath.

Though he'd done this a million times to a dozen other boys in his fantasies, Mizuki had never touched another person as intimately as he was touching Yuuta now and the gravity of what was happening made his thoughts swim and his body slow and lethargic with desire.

Yuuta didn't ask for permission after that. Mizuki would have been willing to bet that he had very little idea as to all the things they could do to one another but, this moment, he seemed content to kiss and touch and Mizuki held tightly to him in silent encouragement.

He sucked at Mizuki's neck, grunting his satisfaction when Mizuki's nipples got hard under his fingertips. By the time he'd shifted to suck them between his lips, Mizuki was writhing beneath him. His pants were riding up along his calves and his dick was so hard that his underwear were beginning to constrict far too tightly. He squirmed, shoving at his pants one-handed until Yuuta moved to assist him and when Yuuta slipped the satiny white fabric away, Mizuki spread his legs and arched his back.

"Come here, Yuuta," he murmured, winding one arm around Yuuta's neck as he slid the palm of his other hand along Yuuta's belly. "Touch me," he whispered. "It _aches_."

It was easy enough to pop the buttons of Yuuta's pants and slip his hand into his briefs and Yuuta moaned, pressing his face to the curve of Mizuki's neck and holding on tight when Mizuki curled soft, sure fingers around his cock.

He stiffened, hesitating with one hand flat against Mizuki's lower belly even as Mizuki began to stroke him inside his underwear. He panted, squirming against the slighter, sweeter body beneath him, very dimly aware of the way Mizuki's fingers felt against the crown of his cock. He was sticky with fluid and his toes curled each time Mizuki touched the head of his dick but he couldn't tell him stop because he knew he'd just _die_ if Mizuki ever stopped.

Mizuki was quiet - it surprised Yuuta - but then he remembered that he was supposed to be touching Mizuki and so he did. He touched him over his briefs, rubbing his palm against Mizuki's dick and over his balls, muffling his voice against Mizuki's shoulder when he touched the damp spot on Mizuki's underwear.

"Mizuki-san," he groaned, on his side now and gripping Mizuki's ass hard to haul him close even as he struggled to roll his underwear down over his hips. "Get on top of me."

Draping one leg over Yuuta's hip, Mizuki released him long enough get his underwear off before shoving Yuuta's pants and briefs down far enough that Yuuta could kick them off. And then he moved close again, eager and horny and on fire for Yuuta.

He rolled Yuuta to his back and mounted him, wishing he could have taken the time to slick the both of them up with lotion before they lay down together. Mizuki whined, restless against Yuuta, wanting to ask Yuuta to fuck him, but knowing that neither of them were prepared to do it tonight.

Taking Yuuta in hand again, Mizuki rocked his hips, nudging Yuuta's belly with his dick and when he began to jerk him faster, gripping him tighter than before, Yuuta rose to his elbows and growled Mizuki's name.

"Me, too," Mizuki panted. "Do me too, Yuuta."

He didn't need to be told twice. By the time Mizuki had found the right rhythm, Yuuta was fisting Mizuki's cock like he'd done it a hundred times before. His angle was off just enough that Mizuki knew he was touching Mizuki the way he touched himself and that knowledge alone was enough to push him to his limit.

"Don't stop," he whispered. "I'm going to come, Yuuta."

Yuuta nodded once, licking his lips, so intent on what he was doing and what was being done to him. "Me, too," he said. "It feels so good…"

Leaning forward, one hand braced on Yuuta's shoulder, Mizuki stared down at him, hair obscuring his eyes. He was sweating – they both were – and his balls were drawn up tight at the base of his cock.

"Ohhh, _Yuuta_ ," he whimpered, leaning further still, wanting to stretch out over Yuuta's slick, smooth body when his dick jerked once and he sucked in a deep breath. Shooting his release in a wide arc, he gripped Yuuta's sides with his thighs and continued to push his cock into Yuuta's fist when Yuuta tensed and made some small, desperate sound.

His cock swelled – hot and hard and full enough to make Mizuki's mouth water for the smallest little taste – and Mizuki watched, transfixed, when Yuuta came hard over his fingers to streak his belly.

Mizuki collapsed, then, finding Yuuta's mouth easily when he pressed sticky and snug against him. His lips were peachy and salty and Mizuki wanted to devour him just the way he had earlier when Yuuta had squirmed so helpless and restless against him. And – later – he could. Yuuta was _his_ , now.

"That wasn't enough," he panted, resting his head on Yuuta's shoulder, buoyant when he felt Yuuta's hands gliding up his back.

"There's always tomorrow," he murmured, touching Mizuki's hair, his neck, his ears. "I can try harder tomorrow."

Mizuki chuckled, touching the pendant stuck firmly to Yuuta's neck. "Maybe you'll let _me_ try, hm?"

Yuuta didn't answer right away, but Mizuki felt the low rumble of amusement against his chest. "I wanted to last longer," he said, a little forlornly and before Mizuki could answer, Yuuta looped the gold chain around Mizuki's neck and fastened it on the third or fourth try.

Mizuki lifted his head, gazing at Yuuta in surprise. "What are you doing?" He touched the chain, the pendant and tilted his head in question. "This is yours, Yuuta."

Yuuta smiled, though, bashful as he continued to be. "And so are you."

When Mizuki only continued to stare at him, Yuuta grinned. "Right?"

"Hm," he said, considering. "What will your brother say?"

Arching a brow at him, Yuuta touched his face, tugged on a wayward curl before brushing it aside and away from his forehead. "Do you care?"

It was only good manners to pretend to consider Yuuta's question and that was precisely what Mizuki did. But really, he was already thinking about next time. And the time after that and the time after _that_.

"No," he answered honestly, laughing when Yuuta wrapped both arms around him to roll him to his side. He smiled against Mizuki's lips and tangled their legs together against Mizuki's pretty lavender pillows.

"Me either."

 

 


End file.
